"You are a fool, Harry Potter. And you will lose...everything."

Harry gasped and lurched upright, bewildered to find himself in bed for the third time that day.

"This day just never ends…" he muttered weakly.

Breathing heavily for a few moments, he wiped the cold sweat off his brow with a shaky hand. He looked about the room in a daze. Unsuccessfully trying to remember how he ended up in bed once more, he shook off the grip of the nightmare that plagued him seconds ago.

Chest still heaving, the memories came flooding back. The pain that had hit him square in the chest when he realized his mistake at the breakfast table. And the panic that had seized him, unrelenting in its grip. George coming to his rescue when he wasn't even sure he deserved it.

Hanging his head to rub a hand over his face, he calmed himself and tried to remember what happened after that. He vaguely recalled the terrifying moments in which he couldn't breathe. The way his heart had seemed ready to burst from his chest.

Simply thinking about it was enough to get his heartrate up again. He had to will himself not to spiral into another fit of panic. George had found him just as it started to overcome him. While he hadn't been thrilled that George had seen him like that, he was grateful he had been there with him. Harry was certain he would have died alone in that cold, dusty, little shed.

Looking around Ron's empty, cluttered little room, he tried to gauge the time by the light pouring in from the window. The way all the orange items in the room shone in the sun, he guessed it was early evening. He had been gazing unfocusedly at a poster of a Chudley Cannon's player whizzing by when he realized that George must have somehow gotten him back inside. He didn't have the faintest idea how he could've done it.

Suddenly, a stone dropped in Harry's stomach as another thought hit him. George had probably told the others what happened. Had they seen him in his panicked state as well? Had they all been there, looking at him? Judging him? What were they going to do now that they had seen he wasn't doing as well as he was leading on?

Harry hands began to tremble as his mind raced with endless possibilities about what was going to happen next. His breathing started to speed up of its own accord. He pushed the heels of his hands to his eyes to keep from losing it. He was just considering packing all his things and slipping away quietly when the door opened. Someone stepped in.

Ron quickly closed the door and waved his wand over Harry's bed briefly, and the sound he hadn't realized had been dampened came back.

"You're up – Hey…" Ron said in concern, seeing Harry remain huddled on the bed, looking quite distressed, "You all right?"

Ron quickly sat down on his own bed, leaning forward. Harry dropped his hands from where they were running through his hair, loosely hugging his knees to his chest instead. He had no idea how much Ron knew about what happened and he wasn't looking forward to finding out. A tense atmosphere formed where both boys were silent for a while until Ron swallowed and spoke quietly, sympathy lacing his tone.

"Another bad dream?" he inquired softly, tilting his head trying to catch Harry's expression. At his silent nod, Ron shifted slightly, wanting to do something comforting but not knowing exactly what.

"So, you…feeling okay?" he asked lightly, watching Harry carefully for any signs that his memory was failing him like before.

"Mhmm," Harry mumbled, nodding slowly once more, still not looking directly at him. Ron nodded in return, silently noting that Harry most likely didn't remember waking and asking for Remus. He didn't want to bring it up and risk upsetting him again. Ron fidgeted with a hole in his pants, casting about for something to say.

"Um, I just got done talking to, uhh…" Ron stammered, nerves sprouting at the prospect of revealing what he and George had done, "To Mum and Dad a few hours ago. Well, me and George –" He stopped short when Harry's head snapped up.

"George? W-What did he say? What did he tell them?!" Harry asked desperately, finally looking up with apprehension.

"No, no, it – it's okay," Ron said hurriedly, realizing Harry was probably worried about his parents questioning him about the incident, "We didn't mention… you know, what happened outside. We only said that you've had a lot on your mind lately. So, they're not gonna be nagging you. Honest."

He had hoped this would quell Harry's obvious nerves, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. His brow furrowed in confusion as he gazed at Ron with uncertainty.

"Hang on, mention what from outside?" he asked, his eyes narrowed inquisitively. Realizing his slip of the tongue, Ron froze momentarily before deflating and looking away sheepishly.

"Err, yeah…" he began quietly, "George told me, Harry. About where he found you and all. And I – I helped him get you in here while making sure none of the others saw."

Harry's fear of everyone in the Burrow knowing what had happened to him dissipated. Though, it was quickly replaced with the heat of embarrassment as he realized Ron had seen him in his state. Still, Ron had seen him a great deal worse. It was better to have only him and George know rather than the whole family.

"Thanks," Harry muttered quietly, turning away again, unconsciously bringing his knees closer to his chest. Ron nodded silently, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on his knee.

"So…what really happened, Harry?" he probed tentatively, knowing his best friend wasn't one for deep talks. Harry let out a small huff, glancing at him briefly.

"You know what happened," he muttered tonelessly. Ron gave a small eye roll and leaned forward, forearms on his knees.

"Come on, mate," he said, slightly exasperated, "Why did it happen?"

Ron could almost feel the nerves radiating off Harry. He considered it a miracle Harry hadn't exploded by now. Whatever was plaguing him, he had to talk about it soon or else much worse than his panic attack might happen.

It remained so silent in the cramped, little room that Ron could hear Harry's shaky breathing. He knew that it was just a waiting game now. He would say nothing else until Harry decided whether or not he was going to talk.

Harry shifted anxiously on the bed, hands absentmindedly running up and down his arms. He couldn't look at Ron because he knew what he would see. Ron would be looking at him with sickening worry that was probably masking anger. He wasn't stupid, after all. No matter what Ron did or said, he knew that Ron must be angry with him for not having done more. For not having ended the war quicker. For not saving more people.

Harry knew that everyone in the wizarding world must feel that way towards him, even if he was their shining savior. He knew because even he felt it. But should he say this? He was aching to talk about his haunting dreams, but at the same time knew that no one needed more reminding of all the loss he caused them. But Ron seemed to genuinely want to know the reason. Only he couldn't explain why he had run off…could he? Well, he could try.

"Um," he began in a near whisper, swallowing audibly, "Well. I – I've been feeling like– I just…" A deep breath, "Err. I've been really, I dunno, off lately and I just think that maybe… Maybe I should–"

Harry's struggling was cut off by the door opening once again to reveal another red head entering the room. The second George laid eyes on Harry, he gave a smile, immediately rushing forward.

"You're awake!" George spoke, relief clear in his tone, "How are you feeling?" Harry had snapped his mouth shut at the sight of him, eyes widened slightly. His gaze flickered over to Ron in slight desperation before turning back to the bed sheets. Ron turned to give George a quick, frustrated glance. George returned a confused look, looking back and forth between him and Harry, realizing in an instant what had been happening.

"Err…sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt." he spoke regretfully, knowing how difficult it must have been for Ron to finally get Harry to talk, "Just wanted to check up on you. You really had me worried there." George saw how Harry reacted to these words, his shoulders stiffening slightly, eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

"Sorry," Harry muttered so quietly it was almost in audible, "For – for when I was…" he gestured vaguely at himself.

"Don't be sorry," George said firmly, "I'm just glad you're all right." He paused and looked over at Ron who merely gave him a blank look, neither of them quite knowing how to proceed.

"Harry…" George began again, taking a step closer, "I just wanted to know why exactly did you–"

Harry rushed to his feet, eager to escape the room where he was being cornered by the two brothers. Once he stood, the room tipped dangerously and the only thing that prevented him from falling was George catching him reflexively.

"Woah!" George exclaimed, hands shooting out, "Easy. Not so fast." Harry hurriedly extracted himself from the other boy's grip, immediately feeling an uncomfortable itch where his hands had tightly braced him.

"You haven't eaten all day, you should probably take it slow," George spoke softly, trying to look him in the eye. Ron had stood up as well, wanting to reach out but stopping when he saw his reaction to George.

"Listen, I – I'm fine," Harry said quietly, gaze averted, "Thanks for…you know, earlier. But I'm alright now, okay?" George glanced at Ron, unconvinced. Ron only gave a minute, one-shouldered shrug in response.

"Okay," George relinquished, "Let's go find you something to eat, then, eh?" Harry was about to decline but his stomach grumbled, and he realized just how hungry he was. It was surprising, considering how eating had felt more like a chore now. He nodded silently and waited for Ron to lead the way before following them out of the room.

Harry was silent the whole way down the long flights of creaky stairs, caught up in his thoughts. How long could he keep this up? He knew he should speak to them. All of them. But the mere thought made his throat tighten. Perhaps it would be best to move on. Move on to where? A voice came, unbidden. Before he could come up with a good answer, they were at the bottom of the stairs.

Looking up, he saw Ron and George waiting expectantly. He followed them into the kitchen, hoping he could eat without further questioning. It seemed blessedly empty. He stood behind them, worrying the end of his shirt, hoping no one else would walk in.

"Alright," Ron said, looking through the pantry, "What do you want, Harry?"

Harry glanced around at the options. Nothing seemed appetizing anymore. He couldn't say that though, so he merely shrugged.

"Whatever you want, it's all fine," he answered finally, his voice sounding odd to his own ears. Ron and George gave each other a glance as they grabbed a bit of everything to take back to the dining table. Harry fell in line behind them, feeling out of place. The house was eerily quiet. He hardly felt like he was there at all, just a ghost trailing behind his friends in an almost forgotten routine.

Reaching the dining room, Harry's chest constricted. He hadn't been here since… He carefully went to a different chair than his usual one, hoping Ron and George would say nothing about it. They placed the variety of food in front of him, sitting down gingerly as though he would explode at any sudden movement.

He gave a half-hearted smile, wondering if it was at all convincing.

"Thanks," he muttered, reaching for a cold scone. They both smiled back, looking glad that he was eating at least. An odd silence settled as Harry nibbled at his food, desperately trying to look normal. Ron grabbed a piece of bacon, his absentminded chewing filling Harry's ears as he gazed at George. It was only then that he noticed George looked as exhausted as Harry felt. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than they had been in the wee hours of the morning. He stifled a yawn behind his hand and caught Harry looking. Harry quickly took another bite. Perhaps he wasn't the only one averaging a few hours of sleep a night.

He finished his scone and was debating on grabbing a few pieces of bacon when he heard someone descending the stairs. All three boys looked up at the doorway with varying degrees of apprehension.

"Hi," Bill said as he entered and saw them, then breaking into a grin at the food, "At it again, are we?"

Both Ron and George were relieved that their brother was handling Harry's breakfast getaway with grace.

"What?" Ron said, smirking, and grabbing two pieces of chicken, "I'm hungry." Bill shook his head amusedly as he sat down.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked, looking at them each in turn. All three merely looked back blankly.

"For what?" George asked for all of them.

"It's Dad's idea," he explained, "He wants to get out of the house." He leaned back, putting his feet up on the table.

"And I agree, I'm ready to get some air," he continued, not noticing the look on Harry's face or the way his brothers glanced at him. Harry chewed his bacon as an excuse to say nothing in response. Shooting a glance at Ron, he saw that he also knew nothing about this impromptu outing.

"What… what are we going to do?" Ron asked, "Are we all going?"

Bill nodded, eyebrows raised, as he reached for some bacon as well. He put his long hair up in an effortless ponytail as he chewed.

"How are you lot getting on?" he asked around his bacon, gazing at them easily. This was no doubt only a roundabout way of asking Harry how he was doing without making him feel interrogated.

"Fine," George said first.

"Yeah," Ron agreed.

"Alright," Harry mumbled.

Bill laughed loudly and Harry feared he would bring the whole family downstairs.

"Really?" he smiled, raising an eyebrow, "Yeah, you three don't seem like you're up to anything at all. Just keep me out of any of your bloody pranks..." His eyes were shining but for a moment, his expression faltered. It was gone in a mere second but for Harry it was a knife to the gut.

The conversation continued, the brothers moving past the moment and discussing where they thought they'd be going. Each gave increasingly farfetched guesses, egged on by each other. Harry was somewhere else entirely as he gazed at their chuckling forms unfocusedly. Disquiet filled him to the brim, an encompassing feeling of wrongness. What are you doing here? The voice returned. His stomach turned as he realized he couldn't stay here forever. He had preyed on their hospitality far too long; they were simply too nice to tell him he was unwanted.

He was a walking reminder. You shouldn't be here. The voice chastised. I know, Harry thought miserably. He had already begun piecing together a plan, where he could stay, what he might do, the excuse he would use for why he was leaving.

"Right, Harry?" a voice brought him back from his planning. He snapped back into his seat in the dining room, looking up at Ron, George, and Bill all staring at him expectantly. He glanced between them for a few moments, at a loss.

"Uh – Sorry, what was that?" he stuttered, his cheeks heating a little. They all smirked at him but made no comment on it. Ron leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Bill says he's the best at wizard's chess, but I reminded him how we beat the big game in first year," He gave Bill the side eye, to which he responded with a taunting smirk, "Which he now claims I took false credit for. When he knows I directed you and Hermione! Come on, tell him!"

Harry sat, dumbfounded. They were really arguing about a chess game from nearly seven years ago? Unbidden, a small laugh escaped his lips.

"W-What?" he asked, mirth tinging his tone. They all stared at him and he quashed it instantly. Then, at once, they all began laughing. Bill was leaning so far back in his chair he was on the verge of tipping over. George began quietly at first, like he was unsure why they were laughing, until it grew at the sight of Bill finally falling and cackling on the floor. Ron was nearly bursting at the sight of Bill, holding his stomach like it was aching. Harry was frozen at the sudden shift, looking about, expecting someone to rush in and condemn them for their amusement.

Finally, the utter ridiculous image of Bill, cool and composed Bill, howling and nearly rolling under the table broke through something in Harry. He felt soft laughter bubble up through his chest. He knew he should feel wrong, but at this moment nothing mattered except for the sight before him. Tentative laughter rose out of him and the almost forgotten sensation of a small smile spread across his face.

Before he knew it, he was laughing like he couldn't remember doing in the longest time. He feared his bacon was going to come back up as they all continued to set each other off.

"What the hell is so funny?" Percy's voice cut through their uproar as he came in the room to investigate. They all stopped for a moment to look at him, saw him staring in disbelief at Bill, and began laughing anew. Percy shook his head in incredulity, a smile pulling at his lips despite himself. Before long, Charlie and Ginny appeared to see their oldest brother in his state. Harry felt his window of free levity closing rapidly when he found he couldn't look Ginny in the eye and keep his smile on his face.

Bill sat up, sighing, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Ron leaned back heavily in his seat, taking heaving breaths. George still had a small smile as he stared at the tabletop, cheeks slightly red from the exertion.

Harry gazed at them, corners of his lips still turned up, watching Bill get up and dust himself off. Percy had already left again, but Charlie and Ginny sat down. Bill righted his chair and sat once more.

"Oh, Merlin…" he sighed, still smiling, "Definitely needed that." His brothers and sister merely stared at him with smiles of their own.

"Are you going to share what was so bloody funny?" Ginny asked him, amusement dancing in her eyes. Bill shook his head silently. Ron huffed a soft chuckle. Harry kept his gaze on the plates in front of him, feeling the easiness waning.

"Oh," Bill said, "It is honestly…so stupid. You just had to be here. We were talking about Ronniekins's chess match in first year."

Ron looked affronted all over again. Ginny raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with the explanation.

"Not just any chess match" Ron said, indignant, "McGonagall's challenge! The one we had to beat to get to the Philosopher's stone."

Harry felt himself drawing away again, all the laughter from moments ago fading away to become more like a distant memory once more. He vaguely registered Ginny and Charlie's indifferent sounds of response to Ron and how he still wasn't explaining what was so funny.

A heaviness quickly settled over him like a wet cloth, snuffing out the brief spark of happiness he had felt for a few moments. The heaviness quickly transformed into something close to dread as he heard Mr. Weasley approaching from upstairs.

Harry looked up quickly, brought back to his seat in an instant, wondering if he could leave before he saw him. The man entered, asking what all the ruckus had been about only to receive groans from Ginny and Charlie and headshakes from the rest.

"Well, no matter," Mr. Weasley said brightly, clapping his hands together, "As long as you keep your good spirits about you."

"What is going on, Dad?" Ron asked, curiosity about his father's plans for today winning over attempting to explain the scenario again.

Mr. Weasley looked at them all in turn with an air of such excitement that Harry could hardly comprehend it. He called Percy back downstairs and Mrs. Weasley as well. He waited for them to join, looking like he was fighting the urge to bounce in place. Percy came and sat down, looking at each of them, perplexed. When Mrs. Weasley arrived, everyone began questioning her in hopes of getting an idea of what it could be. She merely waved them off and nudged Mr. Weasley.

"I've got a bit of a surprise for you all," he said with all the triumph of a father that managed to keep a surprise secret from his children.

"We were going to wait for a special occasion, but we figured what other time will be as special as all of us here together now?" Mr. Weasley said, gazing around at them with such a warm look in his eye that Harry's chest flamed with guilt. You shouldn't be here for this, that voice rose up, He clearly means his own family.

He glanced up to catch George and Ron gazing at him with matching looks that gave Harry the impression that they heard his thoughts. Ron gave him a small smirk and George, a short nod. He quirked the corner of his mouth in return. He would make it through this speech of Mr. Weasley's and the rest of this day, and then begin figuring out how to tell them he was leaving.

Mr. Weasley brought him back to the present moment by nearly running out of the room and coming back with several large, wrapped boxes. Mrs. Weasley smiled and helped him bring in a few more equally large parcels. Surprise filled Harry as he wondered what this could be. He looked around and saw no indication that anyone else knew what was happening either.

Ron shared a glance with him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. Despite himself, Harry wanted to know what they were. Both Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley began handing each of their children a box, not answering any of their inquiries.

"Dad, what is this?" George asked, holding his huge box in front of him on the table, "Christmas come early?"

"Oh, go on!" Mrs. Weasley said, nearly beaming at them all. Harry didn't know whether to feel glad that he didn't receive a box or further saddened that everyone had something except for him. See? It's a family matter. You don't belong here. Harry shook his head, dispelling the voice. He still wanted to see what was inside the parcels. He watched all the siblings eagerly as they looked at their parents in wonder. Ginny was the first to slowly tear off a piece of the wrapping.

Then, like a spell being lifted, all of them tore off their wrappings to see identical looking boxes beneath. Mrs. Weasley gave an excited little shriek and Mr. Weasley wrapped an arm around her tightly, watching with a grin. Ron looked up at them again, completely bemused. He lifted the lid of the box and froze.

Harry saw George's face shift as he looked in Ron's box. George then tore open his own and stared in a similar fashion as Ron still was. Harry watched with mounting confusion as they all stared into the contents of their boxes and back up at their parents in disbelief.

"Dad." Ron spoke, voice flat in shock, "Mum. These – these are Nimbus 2001's."

Mr. Weasley laughed in triumph, kissing Mrs. Weasley on the cheek.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Ginny asked with wide eyes, "Are you serious?"

"These are real?" Charlie said, gliding his fingers over the shining wood of his broom handle, "They're…ours?"

"Mum, Dad," Bill spoke, looking up from his box, "Honestly, this is…wonderful of you but – how could you possibly have afforded these?"

Mr. Weasley didn't waver. He shook his head and went over to squeeze Bill's shoulder.

"Don't worry about that," he said, eyes shining with glee at all their faces, "Just say thank you and get ready to use them."

They all laughed with bewilderment. Ginny already lifted hers out of the package and was testing the weight.

"It's so light!" she exclaimed. Harry felt his heart lift, if only for a brief second at the sight of them all marveling at their new brooms. He knew they had never had new ones before and was glad for them. They deserved this.

He only wished he hadn't been here for it. It felt like an intrusion and he didn't much like the feeling of being the only one without a box. He shook his head at himself. What was wrong with him? They let him live here for free, didn't turn him away despite the hurt he caused, and he still wanted a gift as well?

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, making him jump. For a second, he feared he had spoken his thoughts aloud. Then he came over and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder as well.

"Don't think I forgot about you," he said quietly. Oh, god. Harry thought. Had they actually bought him something? His childish feeling of being left out was immediately extinguished. Mr. Weasley left and came back with another parcel, though it wasn't as finely wrapped as the others had been. Please don't be something expensive Harry pleaded silently.

He took it from Mr. Weasley hesitantly, as if it were a bomb that would go off if he grabbed it too tightly. He was extremely aware of all eyes on him as he set his package on the table in front of him.

"You…" Harry tried to speak, voice sounding scratchy, "You didn't have to get me anything. I already owe you enough."

Mrs. Weasley's happy expression became slightly sad, and Harry immediately regretted his words. Mr. Weasley, however, merely nodded encouragingly.

"Just open it, Harry," he said softly. Reluctantly, he peeled back the brown paper already thinking of ways to pay them back for whatever this was. He glimpsed what lay beneath and stilled. He could feel Ron leaning in to try and see what it was. Harry's breath trembled as he ripped away the remaining paper.

"Mr. Weasley…" Harry breathed in disbelief, not looking up for fear that it might vanish if he took his eyes off it.

"Don't worry," Mr. Weasley spoke, "You won't have to pay us back. It's the same one."

Harry stared at his Firebolt.

"How?" he asked, finally looking up at the couple, "It – I lost it. It fell from Hagrid's motorcycle. It was gone."

Mrs. Weasley merely beamed at him, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"It wasn't easy to find, it's why it took so long," she said, holding onto Mr. Weasley's hand, "but we know how much it meant to you."

One of the last few things he had left from Sirius. Harry's throat begin to burn and he blinked hard, hesitantly running a tremoring hand over the familiar wood. It was definitely his. He could hardly believe it. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he shot up and hugged them both.

"Thank you," he murmured, knowing those words would never be enough. They laughed warmly, wrapping their arms around him too.

Perhaps he could stay here a little longer after all.

A/N - Sorry for the long wait. I've got an idea of where I want to finish this story but don't know what else to write in between to get there.

Feel free to let me know of any specific requests you may want to see!

Thanks for reading and let me know what you think.